


Demise

by xpaperheartso



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: A little angst, Follows the plot of the big fight, Gen, I wrote this on my phone over a span of like 6 hours, I've also only seen the movie once, so I might have forgotten details/missed something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8204896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpaperheartso/pseuds/xpaperheartso
Summary: Drabble. Vasquez POV. The outlaw is witness to Faraday's sacrifice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to keep this a little vague in terms of Vasquez and Faraday's relationship. I like them platonic or romantic, and this was a little thing I had in my head and had to write down. The way Vasquez shook his head when asked about Joshua gave me a lot of feels. 
> 
> Also I am in love with this movie and will probably see it at least 2 more times.

 “ _Mierda_!” He hissed, body practically hugging the floorboards as bullets penetrated the air above him. Wood chips and splinters dusted his clothes, the sandbags holding somewhat against the onslaught. Vasquez opened one eye to check the citizens huddled in the shack with him. Most mirrored his posture, a hand or both clutching desperately at their firearms. Some were muttering prayers from chapped lips, others gritted their teeth against a wound staining their clothes. 

And then there were those who were eerily still. 

 Vasquez shifted his left arm to check on the bloody sleeve, growling in annoyance. It pissed him off to know they managed to hit him, but that hardly mattered at the moment. The gunfire came to a halt, his ears slightly ringing from the tense silence. 

 "Pinche pendejos,“ he huffed. 

 They hadn’t planned for a goddamn gatling gun. 

 Bodies shifted, heads emerging from hunched shoulders to check for enemies. Vasquez quietly instructed them to stay low before inching his head up to the nearest window, breath shaky from either adrenaline or anger.   
Probably both.   
The large gun sat silent, perched atop a cart with its handlers waiting. 

_Cowards_.  
  
Vasquez couldn’t see any of his compadres, which he took as a good sign amid bleak odds. They’d had time to find cover from the hailstorm of bullets. 

Hopefully. 

Luck came to mind, and while Vasquez scoffed at the thought of pure luck, it took his thoughts to Faraday. His grip on his gun tightened as he reminisced the sensation of each bullet ejecting from the barrel and finding a new home in the bastard who’d shot the gambling cowboy. He could see in his mind the cowboy’s face shift from confident and focused to brief shock and pain, a hand going to his wounded side. He couldn’t describe the feeling that took hold in that moment. All he knew was that he wanted to keep unloading fire into the corpse - but his gun only held so many bullets. 

 One of the townsfolk began checking their ammo, metal tinkling softly in his hands. “We’re low on ammo boys.”   
 Vasquez look back over his shoulder and nodded. He checked his stock, motioning for more bullets.  
  _It’s too quiet_ , he thought, peeking out the window again. He heard the hoof beats before spotting the lone rider heading toward the Gatling gun, eyes widening a fraction.   
 He recognized that horse.   
 He recognized the riders vest even from this distance.   
  
  _Guero_   
  
 He felt something coil in his gut. He knew what that idiot was doing. He blinked and four riders were after Faraday, guns popping. “Dammit Cowboy,” he swore, wishing he was in range to cover his friend’s back rather than hiding in a shack. He considered running out to try and cover him, but a cough and shifting bodies made him hesitate. The outlaw had a responsibility to these folks - they’d had a plan, and though it had gone south fast he couldn’t just rush out and abandon them. 

 He thought he saw Faraday get hit. 

 Or could he? 

 Gunshots rang from the steeple of the scorched church, the men tailing Faraday falling one by one.   
  _Those two.  
_ He relaxed his muscles somewhat, but the cowboy was still outnumbered 5 to 1.

Suddenly the steeple was pelted by the cursed devil gun. 

Vasquez could only watch as his comrades faced a wall of bullets, their bodies crumbling, Goodnight toppling off the roof and meeting the ground. He couldn’t see Billy, but he didn’t need to. He swore vehemently under his breath, switching his attention to Faraday. He saw him fall off his horse and he started to get up but a bullet missed his head by a hair. “Hijo de puta!” He swore, spotting the bastard and pumping a bullet through his head.   
 One less bullet.   
 He heard another shot and could barely make out what looked like his gambling friend on his knees before the devil gun. He could only watch and it pissed him off to no end, lip curling into a snarl at the men who’d shot his friends down. He watched as Faraday fell forward, only to rise again a moment later before an explosion tore the Gatling gun apart, the cowboy obscured by dust and smoke. 

_How did he-?_

 Vasquez thought back to earlier, when he and Faraday had been planting explosives. _  
_

_“I always did want to blow something up.”  
_

The outlaw grimaced.

_That son of a bitch._  
  
 With the death machine destroyed, there was a chance that they could still win. Vasquez wanted to check on his companion, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Rousing the men around him, they prepared for the next round, eyes scanning for the next enemy. “Watch your ammo,” he advised, spotting two men creeping around a corner.   
He fired without hesitation. 

-:-

 The fight was finally over and Rose Creek was liberated against the odds, bodies littering the town.  
  
 Vasquez was in the field where he’d last seen Faraday, the remnants of the horrible weapon scattered among the grass with the bodies of its handlers.   
The wind felt nice against the sweat coating his body and clinging to his clothes, his minor flesh wound pretty much forgotten. He held onto the card he’d kept in his pocket, thumb rubbing it’s smooth yet worn surface. 

 There wasn’t much left of the cowboy, and while it was hard to look at, he couldn’t force himself to look away.   
  
Slowly, he knelt down. “Hey guero, did you forget?” 

He looked at the card; the jack of hearts. He’d swiped it from the cowboy for a joke. 

“You owe me a drink.” 

 He fiddled with the card, considered maybe giving it to the undertaker or priest to put with Faraday’s body. He tipped his hat to his fallen comrade, his face betraying only a fraction of how he felt inside. It was an odd mixture of grief, anger, and…regret? They had not started out as friends, but things like that can change sometimes. When they’d met, the gambler’s death would not have left a strange pain coupled with emptiness in his chest as it was now.   
Vasquez wished he had a smoke to light in Faraday’s honor, but his supply was empty. 

 Bowing his head, he muttered a prayer for his friend before crossing himself. Rising up, the outlaw took one last look at the card before tucking it back into his breast pocket. With a final farewell that left a certain ache, Vasquez turned and headed into town. Faraday’s last words rang through his head, his somewhat pained face replaced with his cocky grin that looked good on him. _“So far so good"_

 Vasquez patted the pocket that held the cowboy’s card.

 "Adios mi amigo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)  
>  If I misused any of the Spanish words please let me know! I tried to keep everything in-character with Vasquez so I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
